All these improvements, all these reinforcements, all these extra supplies could have but one meaning and but one end in view, and that was as soon as the summer heat was over in the words of Nelson's famous signal to "engage the enemy more closely."

The time spent out of the trenches was no holiday, one talked of going back to the Rest Camp. But Rest Camp was only a kindly term; it did not mean, as one might be led to believe, a delightful camp where comfortable chairs and well-served meals were supplied to tired and war-worn officers and men. No such thing; in fact so much the opposite was the case that one often heard it remarked that one got far more rest in the trenches than in any Rest Camp at the immediate front. The Colonel of the Regiment was a thruster. He never wasted a moment himself and would have his regiment the same. On the great Bronze Gong of one of our Battalions is engraved "I mark the hours, Do you?" Certainly the Colonel of the 2nd Battalion did. It was too hot for any drill or outside parades between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., so everyone gasped for air inside their tents during those awful hours when the temperature rose to 124° in the shade, and the one thing one prayed for was the hastening of sunset; but if the officers or men slept or tried to sleep during those trying hours it was not so with the Colonel, at almost any time one visited his tent it was to find him busy; he did not seem to know what it was to suffer from fatigue, and during all those trying summer months, when with one solitary exception every officer was off duty ill for some period of time, however short, the Commanding Officer was only confined to his tent for half a day. Duties commenced soon after sunrise and very often before, every opportunity being taken to make as much use of the coolest and light hours of the 24. A very strict course of intensive training was gone through and the results were to make themselves manifest early the next year. Bombing was practiced morning and night. Bayonet fighting was excelled in, and attacks by bombers and bayonetmen were practiced with frequency in trenches especially prepared for the purpose. Officers were trained to march by compass and stars and some were even given a course of riding lessons, nothing being left to chance. The long hot trying summer was not wasted; it was a preparation for what was to come. Long marches were out of the question, but short night marches were often practiced, sometimes by the Battalion alone, sometimes by the whole Brigade with an attack at dawn. These manoeuvres were very popular with everyone; it was possible to enjoy moving about in the cool of the night and the quietness and silence with which it was possible for a whole Regiment to advance on to a supposed enemy position often impressed one. Having marched to a certain point from which an attack was to be delivered, the pre-arranged signal having been given, the bagpipes would burst forth into music and with a wild cheer the whole Regiment would charge forward in wave after wave and the supposed enemy driven from their stronghold. A few moments' rest would be given and the C. O. would call his officers around him and explain, praise or condemn various things which had struck him and, as the sun rose over the Pusht-i-Kuh hills, we would march back to camp. A keen rivalry and competition was established among the various platoons as to which would mount the best guard, and a very searching examination was conducted each evening by the Adjutant and Sergeant-Major. This led to great interest being taken by the whole Battalion in the mounting of the guard, and the smartness of the guard increased by leaps and bounds. The heat, of course, found its victims and in spite of all precautions there was a fair amount of sickness during the summer; it was impossible to avoid it. Great care was taken to see that all drinking water was properly chlorinated, and special waterproof tanks were erected on the river banks. If anyone went sick they were almost immediately sent to the Field Hospital where they got every possible attention. All through the summer the Battalion was very much below strength and the work fell heavily on those remaining.

Views In Zobeir Views In Zobeir Views In Zobeir

VIEWS IN ZOBEIR. The site of Ancient Basrah, the home of Sinbad the Sailor.

It was decided to hold "Highland Sports" on Wednesday, August 30th, and a number of other units, both British and Indian, were asked to take part. A suitable piece of ground was chosen some five miles behind the firing line, and on the day a great concourse of people assembled. The Corps Commander honoured the Regiment and several Generals from other Brigades were also present, our own Brigadier being an interested spectator. The events were keenly contested and the honours were fairly evenly divided. We won the Highland Dancing with a very fine exhibition. Another Highland unit carried off the board jump with a record leap. The officers "Donkey Fight", a scrap "Five aside" between our officers and those of another Highland unit caused huge delight and amusement and before many moments blood was flowing freely. The mile race by the Indian Regiments drew a big crowd and a large number of entries and a great race was won by the Punjabis. The inter-company cross country run was a keen contest. 13 men were chosen from each company, with one officer in charge and an N. C. O. They had to run in full kit and packs also carrying rifles and a severe course of training was gone through. P. P. B. Miller Stirling commanded one company, the brothers Smythe (South Africans and both keen sportsmen) each commanded other companies. I forget who commanded the fourth company. The average time was under ten minutes over a two-mile course, and the remarkable thing showing the uniformity of training was that there was scarcely two minutes' difference in time between any company. But the event of the day was the 'tug-of-war' between the two Highland Regiments. It was the best tug-of-war that many of us had ever witnessed. The sides had been carefully picked and well trained. Officers and men cheered on their respective regiments, the crowd of onlookers swelled till the whole Brigade was looking on in feverish suspense, and so even were the sides that for nearly five minutes not an inch of ground was lost or gained. The cheering ceased and the silence became intense; one could see the veins standing out on the competitors' foreheads and perspiration pouring off their faces, each man pulling to the last ounce, then our coach shouted "come away" and as if by magic they gave a convulsive pull and gained a foot, the spell was broken, and the men of our Regiment looking on gave a wild cheer. In a second everyone was shouting for their side, but slowly, very slowly, inch by inch they were winning, they would lose a foot and then gain two, till after one of the sternest pulls in the history of the Regiment, our opponents crossed the line and we were victors. Both sides sank exhausted to the ground as their Regiments cheered them to the echo. Perhaps some daring Turkish flying man heard that brave cheer from his observation car far above and thought the mad English were practising some new game to worry his existence. That evening at a concert given by the Regiment the General made a speech and congratulated the two teams on the best tug-of war he had ever seen, congratulating them on their splendid staying powers and for the tenacity and determination they had displayed, which he remarked augured ill for the Turk in the coming months. History records how true was his prophesy. Our Brigadier was General Charles Norie whose gallantry in the field was well-known, as in some strange way gallantry ever is known, to every man who served under him. And well loved was Charles Norie. He had lost an arm fighting on the Indian frontier. There have been many depressing optimists since August 1914 who every Autumn swear the war will end next spring, and every spring know it cannot last beyond next autumn. An answer given by one of our Sergeants was consonant to the serene spirit and resolution that filled the regiment and bid defiance to the future. Glancing at the General waving his one arm in the air, he answered some faint-hearted hopeful, "I'm thinking the war will not be over till Norie claps his hands." It is in that spirit that the armies of England win their way through at whatever cost.

The Palm Creeks The Palm Creeks The Palm Creeks

THE PALM CREEKS.

That evening the Colonel gave a dinner party and the powers of the Mess President were taxed to the utmost limit. Nearly 40 sat down, the Mess staff rose to the occasion, and the cook turned out things we had never seen before. The next day the Commanding Officer remarked at dinner "Really, P.M.C., I don't at all know why when we have 2 or 3 Generals to dinner you can give us nice white table cloths but at other times it is only bare boards", "Well Sir," he hesitatingly replied, "they were two of Stewart's sheets." Sundays were usually fairly slack days. I sometimes thought that they could have been even slacker, it being so absolutely necessary to have one day's rest a week. Church Parade would be held in the early morning, and another service at 6 in the evening after the sun had set. These evening services were very impressive; we would form round in a half circle sitting on the grass, or what formed a substitute for grass, with the Padre in the middle. The Commanding Officer would sit at one end of the half circle either amongst his officers or at the other end amongst the men, and the Padre knowing well the limits of human endurance and the severe test that the great heat was putting us to, never preached too long a sermon. We all loved him, and as he had been with the Regiment for a dozen years he knew everyone and about everyone, and when he went sick after the great advance on Baghdad, all felt that they had temporarily lost a friend. We were miles away from any village and still further from any town, so there was no one to visit on Sundays and no social life; unlike our comrades in France we were unable to enjoy the hospitality of a friendly population or look forward to going home on leave. We were out here and we knew it meant for months or may be years. Leave in a restricted form was granted to India during the 1916 summer, but that is going from one hot country to another and, though appreciated, could not be compared to going home. We knew two or three days in advance, the day that we would go up to the trenches for our spell, and we usually went in at the commencement of the month, so had the advantage, or disadvantage as it sometimes proved, of having a full moon. The distance to march was about three miles before we reached the end of the communication trench and we never started till late in the afternoon. All that day we were busy preparing our trench kits and packing up the necessary kit which had to be as little as possible. We always marched up in kilts and marched out in kilts, but during our stay there our clothes were the irreducible minimum, shorts and shirts. I well remember my first spell in the trenches of the famous Sanniyat position. We usually held the centre of the line with an Indian Regiment on either side and one in reserve. We left camp soon after seven, the night was one of those wonderful clear still moonlight nights for which this country is justly famous. It was difficult to imagine before one came within sound of rifle fire that a grim struggle was being enacted a mile or so in front, everything was still quiet and peaceful, there were no villages to pass through on our way up, it was simply open flat country with a river on one side and a marsh on the other, a long dusty road leading from the Rest Camps to the rear of the trenches. A light was burning in Brigade Headquarters and a sentry on duty and we silently filed up the long communication trench which was deep in dust as rain had not fallen for months. We passed fatigue parties coming down for rations and the dust was most distressing. The relief of trenches is usually a long and tedious process—handing over stores, getting receipts, pointing out anything of exceptional interest and generally getting settled down for ten or fourteen days. The Regimental Headquarters were about 200 yards behind the front line and connected up by telephone and various companies and platoons took it in turn to do their round of duty in the front line. I think in the trenches you come to know men as you can get to know them in no other place, the reserve of civilization is often thrown off and you know a man for what he is, not for what he would have you think he is. I remember sitting one night on the fire step of the front line trench and having a long and interesting talk with a Sergeant about Nigeria. He was telling me all about his life out there before the war, and the part he took in the Cameroon Campaign. Back in a Rest Camp he would never have got so communicative, but when one knows that one's lives are dependant on each other a close comradeship often results between both officers and men. This gallant fellow some months later was killed as his company was advancing to attack a Turkish position after the capture of Baghdad. I always feel glad I had that talk with him.

Scenes In Basrah Scenes In Basrah Scenes In Basrah

SCENES IN BASRAH.

The nights in the trenches were the busiest time not only on account of darkness but also on account of coolness. At 9 o'clock in the morning an inspection of rifles and kit would be held by the Company Officers, after which the whole Company would retire to dug-outs in the reserve front line trenches, 10 yards behind the fire trench and then endeavour to get through the day as well as possible. The dug-outs had not the comforts of present day dug-outs on the Western Front. The only roof we had was sail cloth, so if a shell happened to strike it the results were fatal. This sail cloth kept the sun off, but the heat was terrific. Sentries only, and one officer per Company were kept on duty during the day in the front line, where there was not a yard of shade, the sun beat down with relentless vigour and gradually as the day wore on the temperature would rise to 120 degrees in the shade and 160 degrees in the sun and there was no shade. And this was not for a day or two days but week after week. After 9 o'clock in the morning a death-like stillness would creep over everything, both sides suffering too much to be able to add any more suffering to each other. The stillness would be broken now and again by the crack of a sniper's rifle and one dare not look over the parapet. In the early mornings aeroplanes would fly over the lines but without any great show of activity on either side; the heat kept everything quiet. The very flies are scarce in the hottest months, only the sandflies torment one at night, and so the day gradually passes, and as one goes the round to see everything is in order and one sees the men stretched out in their dug-outs, reading, trying to sleep, very few talking and all suffering, one remembers with what irritation one had read in a famous London daily paper, a query—why the Mesopotamian Campaign had come to an end during the summer, why no advance was heard of. One longed to put the writer of that article over the parapet in the sun where within five minutes or less, he would have his question answered. At times, on a hot parching day lying in one's dug-out, one would hear a great flutter of wings as a flight of cranes or wild geese flew over our lines, immediately followed by a loud fusillade of rifle fire as the sentries endeavoured to bring one down; several times a goose was brought down, and I well remember the annoyance of an officer when a goose he had winged managed to flutter across into the Turkish lines. The heat was at the maximum between 2 and 3 when we could almost boil oil in the sun. At 4 o'clock things livened up somewhat and at 5-30 everyone stood ready in the front line awaiting any possible attack but neither side showed any intention of attacking. Night duties were arranged, parapets had to be mended, new trenches dug, barbed wire put out and all the necessary work in connection with trench warfare continued. Officers patrols were regularly sent out into "No Man's Land" to examine the enemy's wire and find out if he were sapping forward. As the summer advanced the marsh receded on the left of the enemy's line, and this gave our scouts an opportunity to patrol and harass the Turks by penetrating in rear of their left flank. Much gallant work was done in this direction and much credit gained by the Regiment, for the Colonel considered that a good test of the fighting energy of a Company was the vigour of its patrol duties, and a good number of the Turkish sentries, I feel sure, agreed with him. The usual night "Hate" started about six when both sides opened fire, rifle and machine gun, on the opposite trenches, this was kept up all night, some nights would be more lively than others, some nights would be comparatively quiet, but now and again an artillery bombardment would take place, when we always seemed to give more than we got. Both we and the Turk were very free with rifle grenades, but what troubled us most was a special pattern of trench mortar that threw a heavy bomb over quarter of a mile. One night I remember one landed in and blew up the whole of the regimental cookhouse; luckily the cooks were sleeping elsewhere and it was only the dixies that suffered.

I have always considered myself a very light sleeper, but one evening I had cause to come to another conclusion. I had just come off duty from the front line and was speaking to a brother officer outside my dug-out about 9 o'clock when suddenly we opened artillery fire on the Turkish position with considerable vigour, and they replied but in a milder form. I retired and lay down in my dug-out listening to the shells whistling above and praying to Providence that none would land on my sail cloth roof. In about half an hour the bombardment ceased and one wondered what damage had been done and how many lives lost. I then slept. At breakfast the next morning remarking on the bombardment I was asked "which"? "Which?" I replied, "why last night's of course," "Yes, but the first or second?" "Well, I only heard one," I said. "Oh! another took place at midnight," I was informed. I had slept through it and had not heard a sound. So trench life must tire one out somewhat to enable one to sleep so soundly as to be unaware of a bombardment. On still nights when possible the very perfection of the night made men less inclined to fire rifles at each other's trenches. I used to hear a Turk singing. He had a deep rich voice and I often stood in the front line or in a communication trench listening to him as his voice carried across "No Man's Land" from the Turkish line 120 yards away. It used to fascinate me quite a lot and one felt that under the eastern sky, in the land of Sinbad the Sailor and Omar Khayyam that war had not quite killed romance. I wonder what happened to that singer. I wonder if in the great push to Baghdad and beyond he was killed or if he is now singing to his fellow-prisoners in captivity in India, or if he is still cheering on his comrades in the front line further up the Tigris. I don't suppose one will ever know, but if he should ever read these lines I would like him to know he not only cheered his own side but gave pleasure to at least one of his enemies.

We used to have three Officers' Messes when in the trenches. The Headquarters Mess presided over by the Colonel and two Company Messes, presided over by their respective Company Commanders. The Headquarters Mess was a very comfortable affair, a big dug-out, and made in such a way that ground formed the table in the middle and seats all around, the sides were well banked up with sand bags and outside a small ante room where one could sit and smoke in the evening, and the roof was the sky and a very wonderful sky during those long rainless cloudless months. Round about the Headquarters, the Colonel, the Adjutant, the Doctor, the Sergeant-Major, had their dug-outs, and the Mess did for Orderly Room also. The Company Messes were not so elaborate, and were situated nearer the front line and close to our own dug-outs. We endeavoured however to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, but for some reason or other the flies took a great liking to our Mess (No. 1 Company), and at any time day or night they were assembled in their hundreds on our canvas roof. We had a large war map fixed up on to the mud wall to enable us to follow events and we had occasional visits from the Padre and the Doctor, but it was not a healthy place, no part of the second line was; the second line was about a 100 yards behind the first, and for some reason it seemed to give the Turks much more pleasure to put their shells nearer to the second line than the first. I have picked small flowers growing on the front line parapet, but I have never seen any on the second. During my first spell in the trenches after being in the front line, I was put in charge of the reserves in the reserve trenches and spent three awful days and four awful nights in this position. The heat seemed to be worse here than anywhere. I had to spend my days in a small 40 lbs. tent lying on the ground gasping for air as the sun poured down with relentless fury. It was burning hot from the moment it rose till it set 14 hours after over the Arabian Desert. The men were slightly more fortunate in that they had a bigger tent, but they suffered also and it was at these times that one could not but admire the spirit of the 'British Soldier.' One seldom heard a complaint, of course they were "fed up" with the heat, everyone was the Archangel Gabriel would have been, but there was never any thought given to anything else but to "stick it at whatever cost." The officer in reserve was attached to the Headquarters Mess and so one was likely to get any news going. Lying in my tent reading, I now forget the name of the book, but I came across the passage which I will always remember "The writing which Nebuchadnezar saw on the wall." As I read that I felt convinced that Nebuchadnezar never saw any writing on the wall and when I reached the Mess that evening, the first one to come in was the Doctor and being a good Presbyterian I felt sure he would have this knowledge at his fingers' ends, so I asked him who saw the writing on the wall and he immediately replied "Nebuchadnezar". "Not at all," I said, and I told him I had just read the same thing in a book but felt convinced it was wrong, he felt certain the book was right. "Very well," I said, "I'll bet you, you are wrong," he accepted the bet. The Adjutant came in soon after and supported the Doctor. I now saw a veritable gold mine before me and he too was willing to back his knowledge against mine. We decided to refer the matter to the Colonel, so when he came in we asked his opinion. The Colonel was not only a gallant soldier but he was a cautious Scotchman. "Well," he said, "I think it was Nebuchadnezar, but I would not be willing to back too much on it." It is only necessary to turn to the 5th Chapter of Daniel to see who won the bets. That night sanction came for several N.C.O.'s and men to go on leave to India for a month. Sanction had been hanging fire for some time and the lucky ones were beginning to despair. My sergeant was among the lucky ones and I knew how pleased he would be when I got back and told him to report to Headquarters at 5 the next morning for leave to India. It was late when I got back, but little did he mind being disturbed to receive such news. I vouch for it that he slept well that night and did not oversleep himself in the morning. To those in France who get leave every three or four months it is impossible to understand what leave even to India once in one or two years means, but when the news comes that we can get leave for England, it will indeed be a red letter day for us all. I was so exhausted the next day with the heat that I was unable to appear at Mess. The Colonel sent up to find out what was wrong and wanted me to return to the rest camp at once, but I was not sufficiently done up for that, and I only relate this incident to show the thoughtfulness of the Commanding Officer for those under him.

NO. 3 BRITISH GENERAL HOSPITAL.